A Gothic Tale
by TheSauvillian
Summary: A man finds himself in a country steeped in mystery and superstition in post war Europe, his new home being that of St. Marguerite Academy. Despite trying to abandon his past and forge a new future for himself, he will soon find that fate has a different path for him in mind all due to a single chance meeting. Can a Golden Lion protect a Gray Wolf, or will chaos consume them both?
1. Prologue

Author's Notes/Foreward:

This is not going to be your typical Gosick based fanfiction/story, if anything this will probably be going heavily against the grain. While I would say that it is by far my favorite anime overall, I'm not blind to the faults that the original story had along with questionable realism. As such, I will be rewriting the story in a manner that I thought would be more realistic and believable, **including a new and very different protagonist. I cannot guarantee that Kujo and Victorique will end up together, if anything I can assure you that they won't.** While most of the content within this story will be based off of information from the Light Novel, Anime, and Manga, there will be some liberties taken here and there with world building as well as character relationships. Any manner that a character acts or says **will be based off of canon to some extent, as I will try to keep it as close to the source material as possible.** Contrary to popular belief, you will find that Kujo (for example) is not nearly a Saint as people might have thought, as shown in the Light Novels. Aside from that, expect a lot of world building to fill in the blanks of the original story and make the logic behind various events more coherent. If any readers disagree with any of the decisions I make when writing then, then I respect your opinion, I only ask that you leave constructive criticism in the review section. With that being said, please enjoy a new story of destiny and romance.

Prologue: In which the newest member of the St. Marguerite faculty is introduced along with the Head Master of the Academy.

* * *

"My father? A preacher sir, or rather perhaps pastor would be the correct term," I answered the grey-haired, middle-aged man sitting across from me. We both sat in a finely furnished office, hand carved desk between us, leather high backed chairs underneath us, and crystal chandelier hanging high above us. I expected of much from Sauville, the small nation having been the "Jewel of the Mediterranean" for several centuries now, or at least it was until the recent rise of Monaco onto the international stage.

"A religious man? Oh my, I believe that you might find yourself at home here in that case. You will find that people here cling strongly to their beliefs, traditions, and stories," answered my interviewer, seeming to be pleased with such an answer. His eyes were of a lighter blue color, thoughtful and kind, but with a sort of subdued intelligence behind them.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I look forward to meeting some of the locals. If they are anything like their French counterparts, then I do not think I will have any issue with them at all," I said right back in a friendly tone.

At this, I watched as the older man sitting across from me crack a wry smile, his hand moving upwards to scratch at his mustache. "While I do not blame you for your kind hearted compliment, I would warn you that we of Sauvillian blood are different than those from neighboring countries. We may be a small nation, but we have some of the most vocal patriots in Europe. You would be wise to remember that. Our land is steeped in superstition Monsieur Sable."

I crossed one leg over the other, my arms folding over my chest as I raised my eyebrow. I was aware that this country was a bit behind the rest of Europe, but not to the extent of shunning modern reason. Still, perhaps Monsieur Lévesque was giving me a fair warning, lest I end up making a fool of myself. "Ah, well I will be sure to remember that. From what I understand, I probably am not the first to make such a mistake, given the student body. From my understanding, there also students here of English descent, yes? "

To this Lévesque let out a hearty laugh, the grey caterpillar of a grey mustache dancing on his upper lip, "Ha, you British are all alike, always worrying about fitting in and being among your own kind. Worry not, you will find yourself among fond friends here Monsieur Sable." Standing up and placing his hands behind his back, the Head Master of St. Marguerite Academy stepped over towards a framed black and white photo of the campus hung up upon the wall. Smiling briefly to himself without a word, I watched as it quickly turned into a frown as something caught his attention outside the window located next to it. "Although I would also advise you to avoid some students here Monsieur. The sudden opening of our borders has brought… misfortune to our lands to put it simply. We have good reason to be wary of foreigners after the war, both friend and foe you understand?"

I nodded gently towards Lévesque, having heard of the Sauville's fate during the war. "Of course, I would say that the echoes of the war still haunt many of us, myself included. Sauville, France, or Britain, the pain was shared by all."

Letting out a soft sigh, Lévesque turned upon his head, stepped towards where I was sitting, and placed a firm hand upon my shoulder, "Indeed Monsieur Sable, indeed. Some of my countrymen would think otherwise in private, but I do not think they would question someone such as yourself. Bah, enough of all this pessimism and idle chatter, today is a day to celebrate my boy! A new Professor to join St. Marguerite's finest instructors! Let me be the first to officially welcome you Monsieur Sable to our humble Academy, I can see your successes already."

To this rather energetic announcement, I raised myself up and stood in front of my new superior. Looking down slightly at Lévesque, I extended my hand forward and gave him a firm shake, eliciting another hearty laugh from his round-ish belly. "Aha, and a strong handshake as well! Perhaps we should have hired you Englishman years before, ha!" he said loudly before composing himself, "Now then, if you wouldn't mind, I will need a few hours to get the paperwork filed for your employment among other things. In the meantime perhaps you would like to take a tour of the campus? I could call for someone to show you around of course."

Taking my hand back, I shook my head and looked towards a Swiss clock upon the wall, "No, I think I will be fine for the time being, my luggage won't arrive until the evening anyway, so I will be without my books and journals. I think I'll take my time strolling about the grounds, I appreciate the offer however."

At this point Lévesque took the time to courteously show me to the door, his hand upon my back urging me forward. "Not a problem at all my boy, take your time and feel free to explore, I can send someone for you once I have all the paperwork done. In the meantime, if you're so found of reading, then perhaps you should gaze over the books in the library tower? There are bound to be some rare volumes hidden away in that labyrinth after all. Just be careful on your way up," he commented as I passed the threshold of the door and began to make my way down the hallway. Satisfied, I heard him begin to close his door before quickly shouting back out at me, "Oh yes, and Monsieur Sable? Be sure to watch the thirteenth step of the tower will you? Whatever you do, just be sure to keep on moving up or down the stairs!"

Acknowledging his comment with a small good-bye wave of my hand, I began to descend the stairwell of the main school building with a single question upon my mind: Why would he warn me about something so outlandish?


	2. Chapter 1: Meeting atop the Tower

Author's Note:

Two things that I want to address now for future chapters and to put readers at ease. The first is regarding the main details of the narrator/protagonist as well as his looks, names, backstory, etc. I can assure you that all of that will be revealed in due time, sometimes in small bits and sometimes in larger chunks. More will be revealed about him as the story progresses, I only ask for you patience of course. The second issue is in regards to Victorique's (or as seen in this chapter Victorica's) name. I always found the two differing spellings/pronunciations to be an interesting issue/debate, so this will most likely be a reoccurring theme. Kujo will most likely be referring to her as Victorica, while others such as Mr. Sable will refer to her as Victorique. **Both are officially accepted spellings, but have different pronunciations.** Anyone who has watched the anime knows that the characters pronounce it as Victorica/Vik-tori-ka, which is mainly attributed due to Japanese voice actors being unable to pronounce it properly. On the opposite side, Victorique/Vik-tor-rik (the -que is pronounce like the ending of critique) is the "real" version of her name due to French pronunciation/influence as well as evidence shown in canon. I just thought that this would make for an interesting plot element, and as such will come up soon.

Chapter 1: In which the Mr. Sable explores the library tower, meets his first student, and is interrupted by her friend.

* * *

"My word…" I said barely above a whisper as I gazed upon the rows and shelves of books that seemed to make up the base of the tower. I had been aware that St. Marguerite Academy had been famous for its prestigious reputation, but the library tower itself was one of the other main attractions of the Academy. Or rather it would be if the campus was open to the public, there was no doubt in my mind that the tower had some of the rarest books of all of Europe hidden within it's many shelves.

Shuffling across the checkered marble floor of the first level, I drifted along the shelves, my eyes flickering across the various titles that were neatly organized. Given the time I had spent in the past at the various public libraries in London, I expected plenty of other visitors making use of the facilities. I was wrong; as far as I could tell there wasn't a single soul in sight, the only sound being that of my footsteps upon the hard floor. I suppose that was to be expected when a majority of the student body wasn't past the age of 16, a majority of them no doubt feeling as if they had better things to do instead. A shame really, but on the bright side that did mean that I could browse undisturbed… or so I thought.

Several minutes into my curious search for any books of note, I couldn't help but feel as if I was being watched, in effect coaxing my gaze instinctively upwards at the floors above. While nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary initially, on the edge of the upper most floor I caught a momentary glimpse of gold, something which was very out of place when compared to the dark stained wood that made up most furnishings within the library along with the general subdued atmosphere of the place. Curiosity getting the better of me, along with wanting to see what the other floors might hold, I began to traverse the main staircases. Passing through the second level with no issue (as well as forgetting Monsieur Lévesque's advice for the time being), the third floor seemed to close off the tower into a sort of labyrinth or maze. There were multiple staircases at this point that lead to seemingly random floors for no reason at all, a strange sort of architecture for such an old tower.

Upon reaching the very top, and being slightly out of breath, I marveled at what appeared to be some sort of grand garden on the uppermost floor, a variety of plants thriving within an atrium. What really caught my however, was the source of that bit of gold I had managed to catch earlier. Being both beautiful and rather captivating, was a life sized doll that someone seemed to have just left sitting on the floor. Long, golden blonde tresses of luscious hair cascaded downward, pooling around it's form in a circular shape. Peaking out from the tide of hold were parts of it's fine black and grey dress, the design and style reminding me of my childhood when Queen Victoria still sat upon the throne. It's most striking feature though by far was it's pure porcelain white skin, free of any blemishes or imperfections to speak of. In front of it a series of books were stacked here and there, some opened, some closed, all together being rather peculiar sight.

"A rather strange place to leave a doll like this, just in the middle of the floor," I said to myself in English along with a small laugh as I took a step closer. Suddenly though, much to my surprise, the doll turned it's head, hard emerald eyes softening for just a moment in interested excitement before losing their shine once more.

"And you are…?" the doll asked in a feminine, but harsh voice in French that didn't seem to match it at all.

Grabbing my chest lightly and reeling backwards, I practically jumped out of my skin upon seeing the doll move. A moment later though, I managed to realize that the doll was nothing more than a young girl, no doubt one of the few students that preferred to spend her time in the library. Walking over, I placed my hands into my pockets as if to play off my momentary panic attack as nothing while I stared down into her thin, pale face. "Ah, I apologize for the intrusion, I was curious as to what laid at the top of the tower, but it seems that I have found my answer. I hope I wasn't disturbing your reading," I answered with an apologetic smile in French as well.

In an indifferent manner, she huffed lightly as she looked back down to her books, "Haaa… and here I thought you might have been different from the rest, interesting for once. I did not ask _why you are here_ , _but who you are_."

For a moment I raised an eyebrow at her remark; a bit rude even from an aristocrat's child, didn't she have an idea already of who I might have been? I knew that a majority of the students at the Academy were descended from nobility or at least came from some source of money, I only hoped that they wouldn't be as prideful and haughty as I feared."An instructor here at the academy, or rather a new one that is. It would be safe to assume that you're a student, wouldn't it? If that's the case, could I have the pleasure of knowing your name? You are the very first student I've met so far after all," I replied, attempting to ignore the girl's abrasive attitude and muster the largest smile I could.

"An instructor? How boring, you'll be just like the rest soon enough, a sad fate really. Do you really find libraries enjoyable, or do you just get satisfaction out of annoying others?"

I gave her a wry grin at her cheeky comment, quite the mouth on this one, hopefully the others in my class wouldn't be nearly as bad. "I have a genuine interest, of course I wasn't intending on meeting someone such as yourself up here. The students at this academy don't seem to be too fond of reading as it seems."

"It is more due to idiotic superstition rather than a rational hatred for literature. If you have not noticed, the people of this country cling to the past stubbornly. Although I will say, I was not expecting your appearance here either, a mild surprise. My wellspring never has failed me after all," she replied, casting a side glance in my direction. Despite being rather tiny in size and young in appearance, she spoke like an old woman beyond her years. Yet at the same time it seemed a bit ridiculous for a mere child to be so… serious, even for the daughter of a noble family.

"Wellspring?" I questioned, having no idea what she was referring to.

With a small sigh, she took the time to look up from her book and look at me straight on, "Haaa… such an annoyance… My wellspring of knowledge, it allows me to- Oh look... an even greater annoyance is upon us now, I can already feel my head starting to ache," she said suddenly, a frown appearing across her small lips as I heard rapid footsteps upon the grand staircase behind me.

Several seconds later a huffing boy was on the top floor with us, his black hair and tanned yellow-ish skin being much different than our own. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that he was a custodial worker, an immigrant from the far East perhaps, but given the uniform he had on, it was clear he was a student. Dark hair, dark eyes, he certainly didn't look like he belonged in regards to that aspect. Aside from that though there was something… different about the boy, something about his posture and the way he held himself up.

"Ha, ha, ha… Victorica, I've got… your papers!" he said in between breaths, hunched over and holding out the papers.

She squinted her eyes at him in irritation, something he said or perhaps just his presence in general striking a nerve. "Out of breath already? If I did not know better, I would have thought that you were a masochist Kujo. You are interrupting my conversation, however, do you not have something else to do?"

"Eh…?" he let out, first shooting her a look before finally catching sight of me several feet to her side. For a split moment I saw a look of disgust or even jealously cross his face, before giving me a curious look. "Good afternoon… and who are you? I haven't seen you around before," he asked, his tone shifting rather quickly from cordial to suspicious. Although not quite as snippy as the girl before me, he still seemed to have a sort of air of superiority about him.

"As I was saying before: an instructor. More specifically, I specialized in the English language along with British literature, as they are some of the greatest works in Europe after all. I'll be heading a language course mixed with literature for both practice in pronunciation as well as to stir critical thinking. And you young man?" I answered in an almost proud sort of way, given that it was just about all that I had left in my life at that point.

"English? You're an Englishman then? You sure don't seem like one at least... I'm Kazuya Kujo, third son of an Imperial Soldier," he replied while puffing his chest out. I could see the blonde haired girl roll her eyes at his introduction, obviously having heard it countless times before.

"What did you expect then? A man wearing a powdered wig along with a cup of tea gued to his hand?" I quickly replied in a joking manner before getting back to the topic at hand, "Japanese then, correct? I did a brief bit of reading about your nation while in University, among other places as well. Quite a distance from your homeland, hmm? And your name as well young Lady? If I may ask that is."

To this the boy named Kuzuya (or was it Kujo?) seemed to be offended, staring at me as if I had said something atrocious. "Didn't you hear earlier? I said her name when I was coming up the stairs, isn't that right Vic-"

Despite his protests she held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence, "Hush yourself Kujo, I don't think that you are in any position yourself to comment, he did ask me after all. If he wishes to learn my name, then he will need to prove himself worthy of it."

"Hmph, is that anyway to treat a friend?!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and placing stack of papers on top of one of her many piles of open books, "Do whatever you want then, I got you your papers already since you're too lazy to get them yourself. If that's it, then I'll be leaving, Avril is waiting for me anyway!" For an instant I could see the girl's neutral mask crack, an injured look appearing on her face as he started to turn to leave. It was almost amusing to see the young pair bicker with one another, but it seemed that even friends could go onto so far before striking a nerve or two. Thus, the boy named Kujo (or was it Kazuya?) begin to start down the main staircase to meet his other companion, or at least he did until the metallic clang of a gate opening up along with multiple footsteps filled the air of the atrium.


	3. Chapter 2: Mystery of the Phantom Bullet

Chapter 2: In which Inspector De Blois is introduced to the plot, a case to be solved, along with Mr. Sable's first test

* * *

While we were deep in conversation on the top floor, we didn't notice the three figures that had entered the library, and made their way up the elevator lift (another part of the library I was unaware of at the time). As the gate clanged open, I did a double take to confirm what my eyes were seeing was actually real. An odd trio stepped out onto the marble floor, two very similar looking boys (twins perhaps?) holding hands and skipping forward as their ringleader followed close behind. The two boys were dressed in a similar manner, shorts, long sleeved button shirt under a vest, dotted bow tie, and matching newsboy hats. The man accompanying them though was dressed in a fine white suit combo, along with polished white shoes that seemed to gleam and a light pink ascot. I knew a noble when I saw one, and that dandy reeked of fine society even from across the room. Most notable of all though was that rather ridiculous manner in which he wore his hair in a sort of pompadour, perhaps that was the sort of "in" fashion of Sauville?

"Ah! Kujo, visiting again so soon my troublesome Asian fellow! I came to make sure that my dear friend was doing well, but it appears that I could use some council in a new case of mine as well! You could certainly spare the time, right young man?" he exclaimed rather loudly, his sight set on the Asian boy. I crossed my arms over my chest, a frown forming over my face as I thought: _who was this man to speak so casually to my students?_ Upon noticing me, however, he stopped and flashed me a smile, running his hand through his spiked hair, "Oh hello? And who is this? A friend of yours? No matter, rejoice for you have the pleasure of meeting the one and only Inspector Grevil de Blois!" At this, the pair of boys clapped loudly for the man, along with giving a small cheer.

"Will you stop that? What in the world did you come here for anyway Inspector?" Kujo interjected with irritation.

"Come, come baby squirrel, aren't you happy to see the man that saved you? I said that I would keep a vigilant eye over you, and I will keep that promise my Japanese protégé!"

"H-Hey! Who said that I'm your assistant?! Besides, I know you're just a big fraud anyway, so stop pretending you're someone great! It isn't very fair to take credit for the work of others you know?"

At this his lackeys chimed in, speaking practically in tandem, "Hey, you watch how you address the inspector, he could lock you up in an instant you know!"

I stared from one face from another, as the French phrases flew through the air and the group descended into petty bickering. Rubbing my brow and sighing, I said to myself in English, "By God… I'm surrounded by absolute imbeciles, aren't I?"

"Not completely, although I do have the smallest touch of pity for you," I heard a softer voice reply in accented English, causing my gaze to shift towards the blonde haired girl. Taking the time to look up from her books, she nibbled on the tip of a pipe she had produced from her sleeve with a concentrated expression, as if trying to judge my response.

"Almost completely then, but the idiotic dandy, pair of children speaking ad nauseam, and the whiney foreigner make up for it surely. Although you are another breed altogether young Lady, I hope that these boys don't drive you mad," I replied with an indignant look.

I could have sworn that I saw her lips curl into a tiny smile for a moment, but by the time she spoke again I wasn't entirely sure, "Perhaps you might have worth after all…I do hope you can keep me entertained, Englishman. Prepare yourself for what is to come, as Chaos will surely follow." Switching back to French, she called after the her Japanese classmate, "Kujo, stop your childish bickering and let Grevil speak, surely he came here for good reason."

Clicking his tongue, the boy looked towards the stoic girl and nodded reluctantly, "Tck… hah, fine… what do you need now Inspector? It isn't another crazy case of yours, is it?"

Seeming to completely ignore the blonde haired girl, the man named Grevil pulled out a pipe of his own and lit up, a much more serious look now appearing over this face, "Ahem, well then, it seems that I have another murder case on my hands, and the odds seem impossible. An old woman, a fortune teller to be exact, by the name of Roxanne was found murdered in her Manor by her staff. Er… found by her staff that is, not murdered by her staff. The boggling part was that the door and windows were locked inside the room in which she was found."

As the inspector spoke, the rest of us seemed just as stumped, well… aside from the blonde hair girl who still seemed preoccupied with her books. Kujo scratched at his chin, "Huh… so no one could have gotten in or out aside from her? Where there any witnesses? How did they find her?"

"Direct witnesses no, but there were three people around at the time. An Arabian maid, an Indian manservant, and the fortune teller's granddaughter. They had heard a gunshot come from a nearby room, to which the trio gathered outside Roxanne's private study. There was no sound from her room, but the door was locked, leading the trio to believe that something must have happened to her. The Indian grabbed an axe from the toolshed to break down the door, given that it was of lighter, thinner wood to make it easier to open for the old lady. The granddaughter protested, however, not wanting anything to be damaged since the Mansion as a whole would become her eventual inheritance. The maid though used her personal defense pistol to shoot out the lock, despite the warnings of the other two. Apparently she only spoke Arabic and shouted something before doing so. When they opened up the door, they found Roxanne dead laying backwards in her chair, a wound through her left eye. What do you think Kujo!?"

To this the Japanese boy reeled back, startled by his sudden shouting, "I-I don't know, Victorica is the genius here! If I had to guess though… I'd say it might have to do with the granddaughter, she would have gained the house if she died after all, right? What if she hired someone to kill her grandmother?"

Ignoring the comment about the young girl, whom I at least believe to be the owner of that name, Grevil stroked his hair in thought before nodding his head. "I see Kujo, I see, a very good motive indeed, what if she had hired a marksman to fire from afar? Perhaps through the window so as to kill the old woman without any evidence! Brilliant, the case is cracked Kujo! I knew that saving you would have paid off in the long run, bravo!"

Rubbing the back of his head, Kujo nodded in response with a bashful smile, "Oh… well I was just taking a wild guess Inspector, I didn't know you'd like it that much. I'm glad to have helped though of course!"

Suddenly, a loud huff could be heard as well as the slam of a book, grabbing the attention of the group, "Haaa… really, is that the best motive you could think of, and without a shred of evidence? I would not be surprised if it was you saying such things Grevil, but I am a bit disappointed in you Kujo. You can barely call this "case" chaos at all, do I need to spell it out for you all? What about you Englishman, do you have some brilliant theory as well, or are you no better than the others?"

Raising my eyebrow at her subtle insult, I turned towards the others after several seconds of thought, "Pinning it completely on the granddaughter without any real evidence would be completely unprofessional. There… actually isn't any fact in what either of you said, in regards to the reasoning as to why the granddaughter would try to kill the fortune teller that is."

To this she nodded, "Go on then Englishman, show me if you have any skills of value at all."

Holding a finger up, I began, "To start, there couldn't have been a gunman outside the manor, it makes no sense. The report of a firearm changes depending on the distance or if it reverberates against other objects, and clearly the sound appeared to have originated from the manor itself, yes? Furthermore, if the shot did come from outside, Roxanne would have been found dead in a totally different position. Instead of leaning back against her chair, she would have been sprawled out on the ground due to the force of the impact. Additionally, the window behind her would have had a bullet hole or even would have been shattered by the shot. Therefore it couldn't have been a hired shooter."

At this Grevil stared at me with wide eyes, for the first time really taking note of my presence, "Well… I… I suppose that she would be innocent then… but the room was completely locked down! Who would have been the killer then in that case?"

"The only logical option would be the Maid," I replied.

To this the blonde haired girl cut in, letting out a cloud of smoke before speaking, "I hope that you are not taking a wild guess, Monsieur Englishman, do you have something to back up your claim?"

I gave her a soft shrug, "It's all rather simple the more I think about it. The maid shot Roxanne through the door, or more precisely the lock. You said yourself it was a thinner, lighter door, therefore being made of a wood light enough to be chopped down with a normal handaxe. The Indian was going to do it anyway, correct? Due to the smaller size of the door, the lock also needed to be made of lighter metal and in a small amount, easily allowing a 9mm bullet to penetrate through… assuming that was the caliber she was using that is. It wouldn't make any sense for a woman, and a maid at that, to have any sort of pistol that used a caliber larger than that. It's all rather simple ballistics and I'm not expert in the field either. If you look at the point of impact in her skull and the height of the lock, you might be able to find a correlation in regards to the trajectory."

Grevil looked shell-shocked, yet impressed by my explanation, although the look on Kujo's face didn't seem nearly as jovial. "That's a big claim, why would Roxanne have been by the door then? And did the maid do it by accident?" Kujo asked next, his arms folded over his chest as he gave my theory a bit of thought as well.

Pacing around back and forth, I scratched lightly at my chin before eventually giving a large shrug. "I cannot tell you completely, not without knowing more. Perhaps she was hugging the door to listen for an intruder or perhaps more gunshots before the trio arrived. Not knowing what was happening, she stayed silent, listening to the others bicker behind the door. She's clearly an eccentric woman, being a fortune teller and having two foreign servants. Perhaps the Arabian maid yelled something only she could understand, keeping Roxanne close to the door before the shot was fired. That would make sense to me at least, but at that point I would just be guessing really."

Upon finishing my explanation completely, the girl gave a strong nod of approval, adding in, "It was not the same means in which I constructed the chaos, but it was close enough. I agree with him, for the most part, although with a minor exception. The maid wanted to kill Roxanne, for one reason or another. She must have shouted something along the lines of 'Stay back from the door! The other two wish to kill you!' At this, Roxanne couldn't help but peer through the hole in curiosity, thus lining up the shot from the maid. I believe you will find a broken object in another nearby room, perhaps containing the spent cartridge. I can assure you that said object would also hold relevance in your investigation. Any other questions Grevil?" While she spoke, her voice raised and lowered in varying degrees of excitement as if playing a sort of game, before her mood returned back to normal level of seriousness.

It was as if his prayers had been answered, as I saw the Inspector's face light up completely. "Brilliant, that must be it then, no doubt about it! Thank you Englishman, your assistance today might land a criminal rightfully behind bars you know? Ah, but of course, I humbly respect your own attempt, baby squirrel!" Grevil replied once the blonde haired girl was finished, as if meaning to completely ignore her. While snuffing out his pipe, the two boys accompanying the Inspector gave a quick round of applause as well.

Kujo, on the other hand, didn't appear to be nearly as content with the results. Although I wasn't sure whether he was offended by Grevil's treatment towards the boy or something else entirely, he shouted in protest, "H-Hey! We might have helped, but the credit should go to **her** , she's the one who figured most of it out!"

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Grevil simply turned upon his heel and started towards the elevator. "Now, now, our English friend here helped out just as much as you or I did Kujo, no need to get yourself all riled up. I can assure you that the suspect will be apprehended immediately! Until then, Adieu!" he said in a proud tone, the grates of the elevator door locking with a clang before the lift descended downwards.

Now with the three of us left in silence, the exciting mood that was in the air earlier seemed to entirely vanish. I stood there with my hands crossed over my chest, the petite girl nibbling on the end of her own pipe (which I was less than pleased at seeing), and the Japanese boy scratching his head in frustration. I could feel some sympathy at least, given how cordial the inspector seemed towards him, Kujo must have had to deal with the strange fellow on a regular basis. With a small huff though, I watched as Kujo put his hat back on and started towards the stairs, "That Grevil... always using use to do his job, I swear! Ack, but look at the time, I said I'd meet Avril in the gardens 10 minutes ago. I've got to run, I'll come by again later Victorica! Oh, and it was nice meeting you as well Sir." Giving a warm smile to the girl named Victorica, he then gave a respectful bow to myself, albeit without as warm an expression, before running down the stairs.

Just when I thought I had done more than enough socializing for one afternoon, I was caught off guard once more as an accented voice in English rose up from behind me, "Haa... and here I was beginning to ponder if those chattering hens would ever leave, all of them that is. Englishman, if you do not mind I would like to have a word with you, now that we are in private." Turning to face the green eyed girl, I felt as if anything she was going to say to me was going to be far from cordial.


	4. Chapter 3: Two Names and a Depature

Chapter 3: In which Mr. Sable learns more of the mysterious blonde girl in the tower and concludes their meeting.

* * *

Hearing steady steps trail away down the massive staircase and the metallic clang of the elevator, I was finally left alone with the mysterious and small blonde girl from earlier. Staring around self-consciously for a place to sit, I couldn't find anywhere to seat myself for the time being, and instead stood in front of the seated girl. Watching her cast a single glance to the metallic grates of the elevator, she huffed lightly and turned to me, "Monsieur Englishman, would you prefer to converse in English or French?"

"English, if you would oblige me, my French slows me down a touch," I replied.

Nodding, she doused her pipe and placed her hands into her lap, looking up at me curiously. "Very well then. Your methods of deduction were impressive Englishman, although not quite as refined as my own wellspring, it was impressive nonetheless. You are not as you seem, are you?" she said with a focused look upon her face.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I questioned her, "While I thank you for your compliment, I am not quite sure what you are getting at."

With a wave of her hand she retorted, "Not a compliment, merely an observation, do not take my words for kindness Englishman, I am not capable of such petty emotions." Getting more serious however, her eyes narrowed at me, "Do not play ignorant either, you already have shown your hand to me. Who do you associate with? Do you not find it odd that a foreigner such as yourself would be employed at such a niche and elite academy as this? Not to mention the no doubt lower value of the Sauvillian Franc versus your British Sterling Pound?"

Her words had caught me off guard, despite her physical appearances, her mental capabilities seemed well beyond her years. It was as if a sage was trapped within the body of a small girl. "Bold accusations without due evidence," I said in a stubborn manner.

"That does not answer my questions Englishman, I gave you my evidence, now refute it or admit the truth," she said back harshly.

"Your 'evidence' is unfounded, young Lady. Due to the newfound labor and suffrage movements in England in combination with the mass amounts of unemployed men wandering the streets after the war, job opportunity is not guaranteed as it used to be. Why would I not attempt to apply for a position here? The competition for positioning is nonexistent, and said positions will be assured for years to come. While yes, I admit that due to the extreme inflation of the German Reichsmark the British Pound is soaring in value, or so I hear, the Sauvillian Franc is just as well off. Besides, I am not doing this for the money, if I wanted wealth then I would have become a banker. Does that answer satisfy you?"

For a moment she seemed thrown off, her brows furrowing in minute confusion as if I had said something that went way over her head. Perhaps she really did not seem as knowledgeable as she seemed? A moment later though, her neutral expression returned as she held her chin lightly in thought, "I… see then… I do suppose that your reasoning does suffice and do seem genuine. I apologize for my suspicion, you cannot always be sure if what people say is the actual truth. So then, what might your name be Englishman?" Her apology seemed less than genuine, I noted, as she began to rise up.

Instinctively reaching my hand out to help her, she paused for a second with a perplexed look upon her face. Looking at my face then down to my hand, it only seemed to click for her several seconds later. Hesitantly I saw her extend her dainty hand forward, pulling it back slightly as she neared closer, but finally laying it within my own. It was tiny as it laid in my upturned palm, my own being able to completely encompass her own. Wrapping my fingers gently around her hand, I helped her gracefully onto her feet in front of me. I could see that she was definitely on the smaller side as well, the top of her head roughly coming up to my shoulder and forcing her to stare up at me in order to speak.

"Anthony Edwin Sable the third, although do not let the title fool you, I am far from royalty," I replied with a small chuckle as well as a smile.

Apparently she did not find my joke very amusing, that or her face was forever to be stuck in perpetual serious contemplation. Removing her hand from my grasp much quicker than she had originally given it to me, she spoke to me once more in that lightly accented voice of hers, "Monsieur Sable, is it then? A pleasure to meet you. In response, you may call me Victorique."

"Victorique? That boy pronounced it as-"

"Hmph, he may do as he pleases, I care not for what he says or does, nor do I care for what you say either," she quickly replied with an indignant turn of her head.

As magnificent as the school was, it seems that even a place like this had some eccentrics as well. Looking down at Victorique however, I nodded lightly in response to avoid any other issues. "I see then… well it has been a pleasure to meet you Victorique, I do hope to see you in class however, it seems like you would greatly enjoy what I have to teach," I added in a moment later, although it appeared as if my words had no effect on the girl as she turned away and moved over to set at her pile of books once more.

"You may leave now Monsieur Sable, the excitement has now passed and I fear that I am becoming bored once more. Good day, and be sure to watch the grate to the elevator," she merely replied, golden tresses of hair obscuring her face as she began to read one of the several books open before her once again.

Although a bit off-put by the noble girl's disposition towards not only myself but others as well, I didn't wish to linger much longer and decided to enter the elevator as per her instruction. Even as the metal fence clanged shut in front of me and the metal box began to descend downwards, I caught one last look at the girl named Victorique enraptured by her books.


	5. Chapter 4: The Life of Mr Sable

Personal Entry #1: In which Mr. Sable relates the circumstances of his life and what has brought him to Sauville.

* * *

Following my chance meeting with Victorique atop the tower along with her other… interesting associates, I spent the rest of the afternoon touring the campus and getting myself acquainted with the general layout. Although small, as was expected for such a small student body, the Academy itself was nothing less than beautiful. With the snow covered alps looming in the distance, the rolling green hills and forests surrounding the gated perimeter of the campus made the place feel as if it was closer to nature. The grounds itself reminded me of the grand palace at Versailles, what with the trimmed flower bushes and beds dotting the paved pathways, something that Sauvillians no doubt borrowed from their French comrades. The only shame was that the rear gardens and open lawns were obscured from view from the front of the property, the main school buildings and administrative buildings being used to show the serious intentions of the academy.

I find myself lodging in the dormitory constructed for professors, the building allowing for larger personal space than the rooms for students. Thankfully enough it's located on the back right side of the campus, my own window having view of a curious yet amusing looking hedge maze not too far off. Students on the other hand are situated in an identical look building on the opposite side of the campus, most of which are watched nightly by the groundskeepers. After all, even in this day and age, young love (among aristocrats no less) knows no bounds.

My room itself though is spacious and large enough, my dwellings being more akin to a suite more than anything else really. A full sized bed, a wardrobe along with several dressers for my clothing as well as personal belongings, a very large and rather old looking desk which my typewriter now occupies, an upholstered sitting chair in the corner of the room, and of course a wash basin and mirror in the other. Before putting all of my thoughts to paper, I had taken a moment to glance at the man reflected in the mirror. I was as fresh as I was when I had left Paris, thankfully enough, still clean shaved, my shimmering blonde hair parted to the side from the efforts I had put into at the inn before departing. My grandfather said that I had "the Sable look" about me, strong jawline, sharp yet thin features, and a pair of grey-blue eyes that often made our kin appear to be cold. The notion made me laugh, my grandfather always made it a point to proudly point out how much the men in our family looked alike, from the rare opportunities that I get to visit him.

I suppose now would be as good a time as ever though to relate my own background, and the circumstances that have lead me to coming to this small country. I was born in the year 1896 of our Lord Jesus Christ on the outskirts of London during the late reign of Queen Victoria. My family was a strange one, or rather was full of subtle internal conflicts, most of them particularly being between my father and grandfather. The Sable name used to be one of moderate prestige during the 17th and 18th centuries, given the small slivers of information my grandfather fed to me as a boy. While there is still money in certain parts of my family tree though, I myself am no member of royalty or even high society in general. That I can blame mostly upon my father, given how he chose to take up the bible rather than a scale or a pen. He shirked the wealth that our family held for generations, instead living a simpler, stricter life with my mother and I in a small home next to a Parish. Contact between him and my grandfather has been limited over the years, but thankfully enough the title of "black sheep" did not extend to me as well.

Now, I cannot say that my childhood was a particularly interesting one, especially when one has to deal with the moral authority of a zealous father, but it was a good one nonetheless. I went to school, learned to read and write as well, and found reading to be my greatest comfort. Not to say that I didn't enjoy spending time rough housing with other boys my age, but you can only play so much before the London smog chokes the spirits right out of you. I thank the Lord that I never developed any problems of the chest or caught consumption. While we only had so much to eat at the dinner table, partially out of humility but also due to lack of money, I managed to grow into a tall albeit slim boy. That was how a majority of my childhood was spent, until being urged forward by my father to follow in his own footsteps as well.

While I cannot say that I was always fond of my father, I never let his own behavior or interactions turn myself away from the faith. Becoming a priest myself seemed like a decent enough of a path, given that unlike those of Catholic teachings, I would still have the opportunity to start a family of my own someday. I gave it heavy thought in fact, especially given how well versed I was in the subject matter already. I shirked off becoming ordained for some time however, instead spending my time to pursue other subjects in University. Becoming an ordained minister would be simple, easy even, but for so long I have craved the knowledge that living under the roof of a parish denied me. And so I learned and read whatever was presented to me, of course I cared for some subjects much less than others (I will never understand why institutions support those who are interested in alchemy or the occult), but I made the most of my time. By the time I was a little over halfway finished with my education though, war had broken out in Europe.

No one had expected it really, and those who did expected the War to be quick and clean. I volunteered almost immediately (which I would find out later was a much better alternative to waiting to be conscripted), much to the extreme disapproval of my father. Even now I cannot say whether or not I regret the decision, but at the time all the young men saw it as our generation's opportunity for glory. For "Queen and Country" as it went, and we weren't entirely wrong either. I spent four years in France, with two weeks of every month being spent in a trench in the front line. It was an experience to say the lease, from the feeling of adrenaline when you hear the distinct whizz of bullets or even learning to fire a rifle for the first time. Initially it really did feel like a game, or something akin to all those stories of an easy war being told back in England. Of course it couldn't have been further from the truth, the first few months only got worse, and after the Christmas truce of 1914, there was only animosity between the sides. At times it seemed worse than the images of Hell that my father had always painted with his sermons.

I cannot complain though, I ended up better off than a good deal of the poor bastards I had served with. In April of 1917 our front trench was shelled by German howitzers and mortar emplacements across the field. My flank of the trench was lucky, we only received the mortars, the other side not so much. I myself was hit during said attack though, three pieces of shrapnel embedding themselves in my right thigh, thank the Lord that they didn't hit anything vital. I was laid up for two months in Paris to recover, and spent another four months after that in the reserve trenches before resuming rotation once more. To this day I still have the scars on my inner right thigh, and I cannot run nearly as well as I used to, but I am thankful that I do not need a cane to walk and am still intact otherwise. Walking around the classroom and giving lectures is exercise enough for me.

Following the conclusion of the war, I spent my first two years back in England to complete my education, and at quite the opportune time as well. As unfortunate as the War had been in terms of casualties, certain job sectors had been cleared of workers entirely. I specifically had received a degree involving British Literature and the English language as a whole. While there were certainly opportunities available back in England, I instead chose to take myself back to Paris. From the brief time I had spent in the city during both my time of recovery and while in the process of being discharged, I had taken an interest in the culture and populace. And so I taught, learned of the people and the language (although I still need to work on my French as it seems), and toured the continent when given the chance. That then brings me to the topic of me being here in Sauville.

Back during the War, Sauville was practically unheard of, or rather no one had cared about it. The newspapers in the U.K. and France spoke of fighting upon the French front, and even when Saubreme was burned to the ground it didn't warrant a front page article. I never saw a Sauvillian in the trenches either, or at least in the ones in France. From what I learned after the war, Sauville was forced to keep all its men to desperately defend it's borders. With the Italians and Austrians pushing from the East and Germans pushing from the West following their foothold on Eastern France, it was only a matter of time before the tiny country was overtaken. From what I understand, the countryside and smaller villages were left largely in-tact, while it was the capital and seaports that were hit the hardest. Looting, burning, and killing was common; a massive blow to the pride of the nation. Even if post war reparations provided enough money to rebuild the nation's capital, most of Sauville's national treasures still remain missing. Though the physical damage has been fixed, there has been a sweeping wave of xenophobia as of late in Sauville. The Sauvillians distrust their French neighbors as much as the Italians from what I understand, but I digress.

With Sauville now rebuilt and at the peak of prosperity, it only seemed natural that I would try my hand in this nation. My credentials are proven and my French is at a mostly fluent level at this point in time. While I might have had a more difficult time finding a position at a public institution, St. Marguerite's International student body proved perfect for myself. Although I still have yet to meet all of the staff members at the Academy, Monsieur Lévesque made it a point to assure me that there were several other professors of varying backgrounds also employed.

That would seem to suffice for the time being regarding my own reflections and circumstances, perhaps later I will fill in further information when time permits. For now though, I shall finish up this entry and find myself off to bed. Even if I will not begin teaching to another week, I am more than excited to be able to explore the grounds even further. Let us hope for a productive and wondrous year in this quaint little academy and country.


End file.
